Out of Tune

Cast: Ranbir Kapoor,Nargis Fakhri,Kumud Mishra

Rating: **

Here it is,the new film of the new Bollywood boy wonder. And true to type,the actor is better than the film. Rockstar disappoints; Ranbir doesn’t.

Brash Jat fellow Janardan (Kapoor),who’s dubbed Jordan by his flirty-but-not-quite girlfriend Heer (Fakhri),wants to be like his idol,Jim Morrison. To which end,he is to be found sitting in various Delhi University campus spots,strumming a guitar. Humming ballads and stalking girls with an exaggerated drop of the jaw is not exactly a rockstar’s thing. But let’s not get picky,okay? A ‘rockstar’ is what you call a person who is aces in his field,okay?

Only when he’s experienced true love,the pain and the pleasure of it,will he be able to sing with feeling,says a middle-aged gent (Mishra) with blinding originality,with whom Janardan/Jordan hangs out a lot. Therefore,J goes off to H,and ‘proposes her’ in good,if laboured Jatboy style,having of course decided to fall in love with her at first glance. Till about here,say 20 minutes in,Rockstar looks as if there may be something in it,despite the familiar post-teen love tropes that Ali sets up. We’re still trying on new girl Fakhri for size,just as her hero is,and keeping an open mind.

But shortly after,the film nosedives. The second half is a mess,as it travels picturesquely but cluelessly from Kashmir to Prague in search of ideas. And it goes on for much too long,as we wait for something better to happen. Nothing of the sort does. Whatever happened to Imtiaz’s sure-footedness which made Jab We Met such a breeze? Shakiness was evident in his next Love Aaj Kal. Here,he seems to have very little idea of how to get his lovers to smoulder despite the liplocks: most of the romance feels constructed,and contrived.

The chief culprit here,apart from the sloppy,disjointed writing,is the new girl,and her ultra-mobile mouth. Nargis Fakhri seems to be in the exact same mould of the fair-skinned creature of Love Aaj Kal. At least Giselle Monteiro did demure well,Fakhri is strictly pretty-and-vapid-and-vacuous,easy on the eyes,but hard to watch. The only one who stands out from the largely-superfluous supporting cast is the hair-slicked-with-oil,side-parted Mishra,who stands by Jordan when he is sliding down the abyss in which all rage-fuelled rockstars vanish.

Exactly what is Jordan so angry about? One moment Jordan is struggling with his unsupportive family,and fighting off cops,the next he’s a rebel rocker,complete with screaming crowds of fan girls,and people wanting to free their enslaved countries,and souls,without any convincing connectives. Just when did that happen?

A.R. Rahman’s music is also not his best; only a couple of tracks stand out. And just who dreamt up the rockstar’s costumes? Those Turkish pants,that khaki topi,and that hair? Seriously?

Finally,you are left with Ranbir,who walks past the parts in which he lets the effort show — the Jatness keeps slipping,and keeps getting put back in place— with some inspired patches. He is the only reason you could,if you want to,watch Rockstar.

shubhra.gupta@expressindia.com